iUnderstand
by heart of clay
Summary: Spencer has been feeling empty lately, and he can't find anything to fill himself up. When the gang is back from college he realizes what he's been missing and waiting for all along. And maybe, just maybe, things are going to work out in his favor.
1. Chapter 1

All those empty questions float around his head as he unlocks the door. Martini scented breath ghosting his ear. High bubbly giggles as he jokes.

A thin hand on his arm, another sliding down his side. "No – not here, my sister- this way…" He's panting, wanting this, it's been so long, tired of waiting…

There's a step there, there's a step there, yes! That feeling of elation that he didn't embarrass himself completely.

Down the hall, lock the door. Lights – no, no. No lights.

Then there's clothes flying across the room and finally, _finally, yes_!

Blonde hair splayed across his chest, thin hand grasping his hip in contentment. Spencer knows he should be breathing softly like she is now, but he's not. He can't.

That empty feeling floating around his ribcage. Still there.

Eventually, he falls asleep, but not for a long time.

*

He's making chocolate chip pancakes, always a favorite, and she's gone, long gone, sent home as soon as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Carly and Sam are too young to understand the real dynamic of adult life.

Or are they? He shrugs as he flips over a pancake. Nineteen isn't all that young.

But still. Maybe they'll never have to understand. He always hopes Carly can have it better.

Freddie is the first in the kitchen.

"Well good morning, Fredward. Doesn't your mother want to feed you a healthy breakfast?" Spencer jokes, flipping pancakes onto a plate and setting them on the bar in front of Freddie.

Freddie grins. Spencer feels his insides melting like the butter he's putting on his pancakes. "She wants to, but…"

Spencer isn't exactly paying attention to the words coming out of Freddie's mouth, he's more focused on his mouth. He doesn't remember when Freddie grew up, when he became a man, but damn it he's glad he noticed.

When he stops moving his gorgeous, gorgeous mouth, Spencer thinks it might be wise to actually call Sam and Carly downstairs before he carries Freddie off to his room and ravishes him. Actually. He doesn't really need a bed, the couch is also good for ravishing purposes. Hell, he'd do it on the floor if he could just run his fingers over that mouth…

Sam was halfway down the stairs, groggily wiping her eyes when she notices Freddie.

"Dammit Freddie, haven't you made any friends at college that you can stalk?" she growls, sitting next to him at the bar.

Spencer turns around busying himself with more flipping and stealing a fingerful of batter. After another serving is made, he turns back, ready to hand it to his new guest.

"Would you like- oh," Spencer notices Freddie's lack of pancakes, and Sam devouring a plateful that looks remarkably like Freddie's.

"I'm not really hungry anymore, thanks Spencer." Freddie says. Spencer has no time to react though, because the new plate is pulled from his hand by his little sister.

"Thanks Spence! I missed these!" she sits next to Sam, grinning.

"Right – well, uh. If you guys want anymore, there's batter right there, and you can make some, just turn the burner back on. I'll be back in a couple minutes."

He's walking out now, thank god, no more of that teasing grin, or those beautiful lips.

"Spencer, wait." He feels his heart jump up to his throat as his stomach turns to butterflies.

"Freddie?" the boy – man – is following him to his bedroom. He needs to change his sheets, he wants to be alone, please please stop teasing.

"Can I ask you something?" Spencer is trapped now.

"Sure thing, just help me change these sheets," he needs to act casual, just play it cool, it worked with Socko – damn it, don't think about that, nevermind Socko.

Freddie's on the other side of the bed, pulling the sheet off, looking nervous. "This is kind of hard."

"Don't worry, kiddo, it's probably happened to me too and been far worse," he grinned. It's about a girl. Oh god. Not a girl. Just make it worse, Freddie, just stab me in the back.

"That's the problem. I don't think it has." Freddie tosses the balled up dirty sheets to the floor by the door, grabbing the corner of the clean one as Spencer begins to spread it over the mattress.

Spencer isn't sure what to say now, so he lets Freddie chew on his tongue for a while as he tucks the sheets in and spreads the comforter across the bed. There.

Freddie sits, looking forlorn, and Spencer sits next to him, tries to put an arm around him, but he shrugs it off.

"I think I'm gay," he finally mumbles.

Spencer's stomach turns to a frozen block of lead. "Oh."

"You hate me, don't you? That's what Shawn said would happen. He said his older brother-"

"Freddie, I – I don't hate you. I'm just… surprised. I thought you liked Carly… and then there was that Valerie girl, wasn't there?" Spencer says softly. His mind is spinning like a top, like one of his sculptures gone wrong.

Freddie looks at him and Spencer can tell his eyes are swimming with tears.

"I don't know what to do anymore, Spencer. For a while I thought it was just a phase-thing, and that I would grow out of it, but when I got to college I realized that it wasn't, and I met Shawn…" he pauses, sniffling.

*

He's realized that he shouldn't've brought it up, should've left it alone. But he needed to tell someone. His mother wouldn't understand yet, she still thinks he's a baby. Carly and Sam… well Sam would just make fun of him, and Carly wouldn't get it. Spencer's always been like a big brother to him. He figured… but now, seeing that look of pure dread on Spencer's face…

Now he knows it'll never work out.

*

Shawn. Just hearing another man's name kills that glimmer of hope in Spencer's eye. Freddie's shaking now, and Spencer wraps an arm around him, and then Freddie's throwing his arms around Spencer's neck and his shoulder is getting all wet but it's ok…

After several long minutes Freddie finally lets go and Spencer is cold, why didn't he realize it was so cold before? But he doesn't try and pull Freddie back. He can't.

"I'm sorry, Spencer. I shouldn't've told you." Freddie wipes his nose on his sleeve, and Spencer automatically grabs him a tissue from the nightstand.

"It's ok Freddie. You know what? I'm bi." Spencer smiles gently. "I understand what it's like."

Freddie smiles. "Thanks Spencer. I'm glad I told you. And… I… Can I come talk to you again? If I need to?"

Spencer grins, "Of course, Freddo. Anytime you want."

And now he's thinking that maybe there is a chance, and he can only grin more as Freddie walks out, every inch of him as gorgeous as anything.

**A/N - I know, the obligatory author's notes! **

**But honestly, reviews are much appreciated, because I really don't know where I want to go with this, if anywhere. Do you guys want to see this Shawn guy, or more Carly and Sam? Or hear about Socko? Should I develop this into anything? Or is it good the way it is? Any feedback is wonderful! Thanks for reading! **


	2. Chapter 2

Freddie had spent his first semester of college doing everything he was supposed to do. He did well in all of his classes, he rushed a fraternity, he drank, he smoked, he failed some classes, he slept with so many dumb sorority girls his head spun.

Then he met Shawn. They were in the same graphic design class. Freddie took the class on a whim, told by one of his fraternity brothers that it was so easy he wouldn't have to do a thing and he'd get an A. He needed the GPA boost, and after getting a D in the calculus class that he didn't understand (or need – what the hell was he going to do with calculus in Audio Visual Communications and Computer Science?) he figured the agony of graphic design was a worthy punishment for his stupidity.

Shawn was everything he ever wanted. Arty. Quirky. Honest. Cute.

And he was also a man.

Shawn was ok with that. They shared a table, and those occasional 'accidental' arm brushes, or oops-I-dropped-my-pencil-can-you-get-it?s, only escalated until Shawn finally said, "Hey, are you doing anything after this, 'cause I'd love to get some coffee with you?"

It was blunt. And Freddie loved it.

No more frat parties, no more spewing his insides to dingy grimy toilets that had seen decades of barf before him, no more nameless giggling blonde bimbos. Suddenly he was spending his Friday nights discussing the cultural impact of Walt Whitman's _Leaves of Grass_ and what the homoerotic subtext did for American gays. He was seeing art shows. He was cutting the sleeves off his shirts to show off more skin at the club.

When he got his ear pierced, his right ear, at Shawn's urging ("I swear, Freddie, after I got mine done I got my ass grabbed so often walking across campus I had to take the damn thing out. Guys you wouldn't've dreamed were queers will come out of the woodwork asking for your number."), his frat brothers started talking behind his back.

He'd hear whispering as he got out of the shower, 'don't drop the soap, man!', and get disgusted looks every time he climbed the stairs to his room.

And then they found Shawn blowing him, in his closet nonetheless, and it was all over.

"Don't worry, dude. You can live with me. Those assholes don't deserve to have your hot ass around," he found Shawn assuring him as he sobbed into his shoulder.

When he'd calmed down, he still didn't feel any better. "My mom - she was so proud that I got in. What am I going to tell her now? She doesn't know… about us."

"I don't know. My family pretends they don't know. They think you're Francis Benson, a blonde haired pre med sophomore," Shawn ruffled his hair.

Freddie snorted.

*

While he was still in college it was easy to forget about everything at home. But the summer came faster than ever, and he soon found himself saying goodbye to Shawn, who was studying abroad over the summer. Promises of getting an apartment together would be worked out, they both swore, but Freddie knew he'd be lucky if Shawn even came home. The guys in Britain had way bigger cocks, they always joked.

So Freddie found himself back in his mom's apartment, thrust back into the world he so fervently desired to leave.

*

At home Freddie was back in the closet. He had to take the cute little stud Shawn had gotten him for his birthday out of his ear. He had to stuff those pink fuzzy handcuffs in the back of his underwear drawer. He missed Shawn's dorm room and his privacy.

The moment he sat down on his bed all his fears about his sexuality came rushing back. It was like he was a scrawny sixteen year old boy again, jerking off in the shower while trying to push those thoughts of Spencer out of his mind and focus on Carly.

_Spencer_. Oh god. Spencer was right across the hall again.

Spencer had always been like a big brother to him. But as Freddie had grown older and went to him more often for advice about girls, he began to realize it wasn't the girls he was seeking, it was time alone with the older man.

He'd hoped it would go away. He'd screwed countless girls during that first semester thinking that maybe he'd find the right fit, or someone lose his desire for the man.

Shawn had shown him that all those desires were ok, and for a while he had forgotten.

He'd spent late nights discussing his first male crush with Shawn and the guys over coffee.

"You could always still go for it, man," Shawn had told him, turning his collar up to the cold air as they began home. "You said yourself you've never seen him with a chick."

"I don't know," Freddie had mumbled, "he's always seemed like a breeder to me."

Shawn's words haunted him as he pulled his sheets over his head, annoyed. Dinner with his mom had been so horrible that night – those invasive questions: "So, Fredward, did you meet anyone special?"

Yes. Just the greatest blow job giver this side of the Mississippi. "No, mom. Not really. There was this girl, uh, Shelly, that I was seeing for a while. But she's studying abroad for the summer."

The horrible lie should've been gnawing at his insides, but he felt pretty good about it. Shelly. Haha.

"So what's her major? She's not some art student, is she, Freddie? You know what I've told you about how artists…" His mom had begun lecturing.

"No mom, actually… she's pre med." Freddie had grinned inwardly. Shawn really knew what he was doing.

"Oh Freddie, that's absolutely wonderful! You'll have to bring her home to me sometime. I'd just love to meet her. What a nice girl she must be. Pre med!"

Freddie rolled his eyes at the wall. He'd tell her eventually.

He was going to see Carly tomorrow and catch up. He hadn't seen her since she left for UC Berkeley in August. Spencer was so proud.

Damn it. There he went again.

He could always try telling him. He could even go for Shawn's suggestion.

He'd just have to wait and see.

*

By the time he walked out of Spencer's room he just felt resigned. A hopeful sort of resignation, almost. Spencer was bi. That could – but no. Really, Freddie. Really? There's a twelve year age difference in the way of all this. It wouldn't really matter if Spencer was the biggest queen in Seattle, he's too old.

Carly and Sam were already making more pancakes, laughing.

As he settled back down at the bar, they fell back into the familiar rhythm that had held them together throughout high school. Sam was still insulting him, Carly was still the feeble peacemaker. Their jokes were a little bit dirtier, and they spoke much faster, having so much to discuss, but everything was almost like it used to be.

Freddie didn't really like that. He wanted to be back with Shawn and the guys. Carly and Sam were so different than him now. It was so hard to be out of the closet for so long comfortably and then have to go back in so quickly.

And then that question he'd been dreading and hoping for came up, "So, Freddie, did you meet any girls?" Carly asked with a grin. They were sitting up in the old iCarly studio, just like old times.

"What kind of girl would want to meet Fredweird?" Sam snorted. Freddie shot her a look. Some things never changed.

"Well, uh. I mean… not really a girl…" Freddie started nervously.

"Well what then? A chicken?" Carly laughed.

"Uh… Actually… No. No one really." Freddie grinned fakely. "There were a couple girls, but not anyone special."

This whole lying thing was getting easier and easier.

**A/N - I just wanted to thank those people who reviewed!**

**Once again, I don't know where to go with this, and I'm always happy to do what the reader wants. I'm thinking next chapter we'll hear about Spencer and Socko. I promise, there'll be some sex soon, if not in chapter three, then definitely in chapter four. Any other input or ideas are always welcome! Thanks for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

Spencer was drunk.

Damn it he was so drunk.

He turned his head to the side slightly. Things didn't hurt yet. Good. Good. He knocked over a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon with his foot. Damn it. Oh. It was empty.

Freddie was sitting next to him, still sipping from a bottle of Mike's Hard Lemonade. He was such a fruitcake. Ha ha. Fruitcake.

"I haven't..." Spencer sputtered, attempting to stand. Oh damn. The floor was moving. Freddie jumped up, holding him up. "I haven't been this drunk since my high school graduation."

Freddie was silent, supporting the older man as he hobbled to the bathroom. Spencer went in and shut the door.

He heard retching and the telltale sounds of vomiting, as he went back to the couch to clean up the mess. So many empty cans. The frat parties he'd been to had always had Miller Lite, and you didn't drink beer at the club unless you were hairy and old.

The toilet flushed as Freddie put on a pot of coffee. Shawn always had coffee for him in the morning after a night of hard partying.

Spencer tripped back into the main room as Freddie was pouring him a cup of coffee.

"Thanks kiddo," he said as Freddie handed him the mug.

There was a long pause. Maybe it was the booze, Freddie didn't really know, but he suddenly had the courage to ask, "So how did you know you were bi?"

Spencer looked at him, as though he just noticed he was there. "Uh."

Memories flooded through his mind at the question.

"Sorry," Freddie mumbled.

"No... I... well..." Spencer sighed. "It's a long story..."

* * *

Spencer and Socko were sitting on Socko's bed. When he had arrived, Socko told him that he knew where Tyler kept his stash of weed, and they'd busted into his parents liquor cabinet to top it all off. Socko's parents, Harry and Styla, who ran a hair salon together, were both out of town at some Hairdressers convention.

After several hours of playstation, drunk dialing half the girls in their class, and eating, they ended up on Socko's bed, playing strip checkers.

* * *

"Strip _checkers_?" Freddie asked.

"I know... Socko was dead set on playing strip something and we couldn't find any cards, so no poker, and we were way too stoned to play chess," Spencer grinned wryly.

"I'll never play checkers with a straight face again," Freddie snorted.

"Do you want me to tell the story or not?"

"Sorry."

* * *

Spencer was down to his boxers, and Socko was almost completely clothed. Figures, Spencer had thought.

He had three pieces left.

"So what happens when I don't have any more clothes to take off?" Spencer asked as he jumped one of Socko's pieces. "HA!" Socko grudgingly removed his last sock.

"Well..." Socko grinned evilly, brushing dark hair out of his eyes as he jumped one of Spencer's pieces... and then another. "King me."

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, placing one of Socko's black pieces he had captured on top of the piece in question.

"And?" Socko smirked. Spencer climbed off the bed, pulling his boxers off and tossing them onto his pile of clothes.

"Damn you." Spencer growled, sitting back on the bed.

"You still owe me for that other piece."

"What do you want me to do?" Spencer asked, suddenly nervous. He'd been naked around Socko before, but in the locker room or changing out of swim trunks in his bathroom. Never like this. He could almost feel Socko's eyes on him. It was kind of hot.

He mentally shook himself. It was just the booze. That whole lowered inhibitions crap they'd heard in health class.

Right?

Socko pushed the checkerboard aside, scattering pieces across the bed. "Dude, what the hell? We're not done yet!" Spencer protested.

* * *

"And then we uh... had sex," Spencer mumbled, his eyes glassy with reminiscing.

"That's it?"

Spencer shrugged.

"Who topped?" Freddie asked, sincerely curious.

"Uh..." Spencer mumbled, as though in a trance that Freddie was continually, rudely, interrupting.

* * *

"Spencer," Socko said. Like he was tasting the word or something. "Spencer."

And then he was grabbing Spencer's arm and he was in Socko's lap and his jeans were so rough against Spencer's bare ass. Socko's hand was on the back of his neck and this was so different than any of the few girls he had ever kissed, this was rough and needy and why were there so many damn buttons on Socko's shirt?

But it was ok because Socko was pushing him back and where did he learn to do that with his tongue? because all two of the girls that had blown him hadn't been anywhere near so enthusiastic or talented.

And he didn't really remember when Socko took his pants off but damn it he was so hard, they were both so hard, and his skin was so much smoother than it looked, and he just wanted to touch every inch of the boy on top of him.

Then his fingers were in Socko's mouth and god fuck everything why was it only his fingers but Socko was pushing his wet fingers down, behind him and oh. Oh god oh god this was actually happening, going to happen, and Spencer wanted to make soda flavored like this moment, like whiskey and weed and _sex_.

Socko was crawling across the bed now, off of him, and Spencer was grabbing his hips and begging him not to leave, come back Socko, don't leave me, but it was ok because Socko was back and he was ripping the tiny foil package open and damn it his hands...

He was behind Socko now and his mind was spinning into overdrive and god he was so tight so fucking tight and the last - the only - girl he'd screwed hadn't been so fucking hot, and she hadn't let him grip her hips hard enough to bruise or leave a constellation of love bites across her back and damn it damn it _damn it_.

In the pit of his stomach there was that gathering feeling like he was climbing a wall and his hand had just found the edge and he was so close, so close, he was biting Socko's shoulder as he screwed his eyes shut and he was spinning over the edge and please god yes yesyesyesyesyes_yes_.

Spencer was panting as he fell back, Socko on top of him, and Socko was still furiously working on himself, grunting. Spencer was too incapacitated to do much of anything, and by the time he reached around to help it was too late and his hand was all messy.

After a couple minutes of fumbling around for a tissue, Socko rolled over and Spencer faced him. Socko pulled a checker off of Spencer's ass.

"Nice."

* * *

"I did," Spencer finally said, coming out of his trance, finally making eye contact with the younger man.

"Oh." Freddie looked away, back to the bottle in his hand. There was a long pause.

Then Spencer scooted closer to him, putting his arm around him, and when Freddie turned to look and ask what he was doing, he put his other hand on Freddie's jaw and pulled him into a kiss.

**A/N - ****I'd like to thank those who reviewed. There will most likely be more sex in the next chapter, but I'm currently throwing around at least three ideas, one of which is sex free. Please review, because they really motivate me to update faster!**

**Thanks for reading! Now press that button down below this... :D**


	4. Chapter 4

After hours of grilling about everything he'd done in college, Carly and Sam let up and decided that they ought to watch a movie.

So there they were, on the couch, Sam stuffing her face with popcorn, generic pirates Argh!-ing on the tv screen.

Freddie couldn't stop thinking about Spencer. He was in his room, working on a sculpture, and all Freddie wanted to do was run in and jump on him.

By the time the movie had ended it was late.

"Let's go out," Carly suggested. "I haven't been clubbing for weeks."

"Yeah. Let's go meet some real guys," Sam glared pointedly at Freddie.

Freddie only rolled his eyes.

"Are you going to come with us?" Carly asked.

"No... my mom probably wants me to be home with her..." Freddie lied. He didn't want to go to some breeder club.

"Ok..." Carly shrugged. "Let's go get ready."

Freddie sat, flipping through channels on the Shay's tv. Carly and Sam rushed about upstairs. He was almost jealous. He hadn't been clubbing in weeks either.

But he couldn't just go out alone.

Carly and Sam came down the stairs then.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us, Freddie?" Carly asked, concernedly.

"No thanks guys. I'll see you tomorrow." Freddie smiled fakely at them.

"C'mon Carls. Let Fredweird stay home if he wants." Sam tugged on Carly's sleeve, and they left.

Freddie didn't exactly remember when Spencer came out and sat next to him on the couch. He'd muttered hey, and Spencer had replied with the same, and then they were silent.

After twenty minutes Spencer spoke.

"Are you hungry? We could order pizza."

"Oh. Sure, that'd be cool."

Freddie didn't know why he didn't leave, why he stayed for so long, but soon Spencer was breaking out the Pabst Blue Ribbon from his hidden stash ("I swear, Freddie," he'd eventually slurred, "this is the only beer worth drinking"), and forcing a Mike's Hard Lemonade into his hands ("Only losers drink alone"). And he couldn't exactly go home drunk.

Right?

*

As Spencer told his story, all Freddie could imagine was having sex with him. He wasn't exactly the best listener, but it had to be Spencer's fault for being so sexy.

He knew he was being creepy and invasive, but god damn it, he wanted to know. He never knew Spencer had done anything with Socko. He'd never even seen Socko, actually.

And he couldn't help but squirm at the thought of Spencer topping.

When he felt Spencer's arm around his shoulders, and his calloused artist's hand on his jaw, and his slightly chapped lips brushing sloppily against his cheek, he felt himself groaning inwardly at the cliche but he definitely saw some fireworks before his eyes slipped closed and he tentatively brushed his tongue against Spencer's lips.

Spencer quickly stripped Freddie of his shirt. Freddie could hardly breathe. He'd been waiting for this moment his whole life, it seemed. Another cliche.

Time seemed to stand still. It was like someone had ripped the world open and all that was left were Freddie's craziest fantasies.

Spencer was pulling him to his feet, their mouths still glued together. Freddie found himself being pulled towards the bedroom.

They were still wearing too many clothes. Freddie's fingers fumbled on Spencer's belt buckle. Mostly because Spencer was doing things with his tongue to his chest that he didn't even know were possible. Shawn had never even suggested things like this.

If sexual prowess grew with age, he reasoned as Spencer pushed his hands above his head, he would definitely be visting the gay old people home Shawn and he had volunteered at.

Spencer then began dragging his tongue slowly down Freddie's chest and the ability to have reasonable thoughts left his mind entirely.

*

He was just so close, and he wanted to jump over the edge of that cliff so badly he felt like exploding, but every time he almost did Spencer jerked him back, like he had him on a leash.

It was the most torturous and beautiful thing he had ever felt.

His thighs would've been aching from the long term strenuous exercise of being stretched up so that his feet could rest comfortably on Spencer's shoulders, but he was in too much ecstasy to notice.

And then finally Spencer let go of the metaphorical leash and Jesus, Mary and Joseph his scream would've deafened the entire apartment building if Spencer hadn't instinctively clapped his hand over Freddie's mouth. And Spencer followed him quickly off his cliff, biting his lip and screwing his eyes shut and grunting and god Freddie had a front row seat to one of the sexiest things he'd ever seen.

Spencer collapsed on top of him, and Freddie gently brushed sweat soaked hair out of the older man's eyes.

He finally noticed his thighs aching.

"Spencer..." he panted, "Off... me... Hurting..."

Spencer groaned, rolling off Freddie.

"Sorry, kiddo."

There was a long silence as their breathing slowed.

Freddie's mind was whirring. This actually happened.

Then he heard the front door opening and Spencer sat up quickly.

"Shit. Shit. Carly."

He jumped off the bed, searching the clothes on the floor until he found his jeans.

"Spence?" Carly called. She was coming down the hall.

Freddie didn't have time to think as Spencer pulled the blankets over his head telling him not to say a word. Carly opened the door.

"Spencer? What happened?"

"Nothing! Sorry about the mess. I was just about to clean up." Spencer quickly said. Freddie could almost hear his heart pounding.

"Oh. It's ok. I just wanted to tell you uh, not to come in my room." Carly smiled nervously.

She must've brought some guy home, Freddie reasoned, smirking.

"Oh. Uh. Ok." Spencer sounded confused. Freddie hardly suppressed a snort. He could be so oblivious.

He heard the door shutting and then the covers were pulled off his face. "I'm going to go clean up. Stay here."

Freddie rolled over onto his stomach as the door shut again, falling asleep.

*

"Freddie," Spencer was shaking him. "Freddie, you have to go."

"What?" Freddie sat up, yawning. It was still dark. He must've drifted off for a few minutes. Ow. Sore. His entire lower body was sore.

The he remembered where he was, and why he was there, and it was all ok. He smiled at Spencer.

"You can't stay here. What if Carly or Sam see you?" Spencer was sitting next to him, shirtless and disheveled.

"Why does it matter?" The smile quickly slid off his face.

"They can't know we did... this." Spencer was handing clothes to him. Shirt. Shorts. Sock.

Freddie began dressing, standing to pull on his shorts.

"Why not?" The walls started closing in, and it was like someone had punched him in the stomach - that solar plexus thing, and all the wind had been knocked out of him, and he couldn't breathe, and god fucking damn it things had been going so smoothly.

"Because... they can't." Spencer refused to look him in the eyes, and Freddie finished tying his last shoelace. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat, and a painful lump that made it hard to swallow without tears pricking the corners of his eyes had decided to move in right where his pulse was pounding the hardest, and fuck fuck fuck, why was this happening to him?

He felt himself being ushered out of Spencer's room, down the hallway, and then out the front door.

"Spence, I... I..." he croaked, swallowing hard. It didn't do much to the lump.

"I'm sorry, kiddo." Spencer was looking at his shoes as he stood in the doorway. "Bye."

And then he shut the door, and Freddie was left standing in the hallway with his shirt on backwards and his eyes shining with tears that he really didn't want to be there.

And it was like the lump was full of water or something because suddenly he was sobbing silently, his eyes dripping like a faucet and his nose running like a sick child's. He was sliding to the floor, and god when did he turn into such a queen?

Because god damn it this was beyond pathetic.

**A/N - Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I've been pretty busy lately. Any suggestions for the next chapter are welcome. We're going to hear from Shawn some more, for sure, but I'm wondering if people are interested in more appearances from Carly and Sam? **

**Please review! I really want to thank everyone that reviewed the last chapter, and thanks again for reading.**


	5. Chapter 5

Spencer didn't want to get out of bed ever again. He felt like he had just destroyed his favorite sculpture. He'd ruined the best thing he'd had in a long time, and for no good reason but his own stubborness.

Fuck everything.

*

Freddie wanted to drown himself. He was in the bathtub. It wouldn't be that hard.

When he'd woken up that morning he'd ignored prying questions from his mom, just telling her he wanted to be alone ("Is this about Shelly, Freddie? Is she ok? What happened?").

He'd locked the bathroom door and drawn himself a hot bath. He always felt safer in the bathtub - which was surprising, considering his childhood.

He considered leaving and moving in with one of the guys. Maybe Rick. He had an apartment. And a job. Freddie could work at the club or something. Half the guys he brought home told him he was an excellent dancer...

But when his mother banged on the door and asked if he was ok in there, and if he wanted to do this new puzzle with her, Freddie realized he was going to have to deal with this like a man, not a queen, even though Shawn had told him that with a little eyeshadow, and a nice push up bra, he could give RuPaul a run for her money.

Although he definitely couldn't compete with Divine, so he got out of the bath and toweled off, pulling the plug.

*

He finally got out of bed, telling himself that damn it he had to get over this.

He had sculpting to do and dinner to cook.

Carly seemed less concerned when she saw him boiling water for spaghetti, and he thought that maybe he'd go out tonight, maybe he'd go see Socko, maybe it would be ok.

But then there was a knock at the front door and fuck fuck fuck Freddie was stepping over the threshold, and now there was nowhere for him to hide.

*

The kitten puzzle was completed, on the dining room table for all to see. It made him feel a little better to see his mother so happy.

"Hey mom?" Freddie stood in the doorway of the kitchen, phone in hand. "Can I make an international call?"

"Freddie, who could you be calling that doesn't live around here?" his mother looked at him sternly, drying her hands on a towel.

"Uh... Shelly. She's studying abroad for the summer, remember? She's in England," he lied.

"Oh, of course! Of course you can call her." His mother grinned broadly. "Tell her I said hi!"

Freddie was already in his room with the door shut, though. It took a while for the call to get through, but when he finally heard Shawn's "What's happenin'?" he breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

"Shawn! God, it's so great to hear your voice. How are you?" Freddie nearly bursting with joy.

"Great, considering it's _two am_." Shawn chuckled.

"Oh shit. Sorry. I forgot."

"It's cool, man. I was just getting home actually," Shawn chuckled.

"Anyone with you?" Freddie could almost hear another guy breathing in the background.

"Just me, myself and Iggy here," he lowered his voice, "You'll never believe how long his cock is, Freddie. You need to get your pretty ass over here, pronto."

Freddie snorted, "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something serious. But I wouldn't want you to miss out on Iggy junior."

"His name is actually The Impalor, thank you." Freddie could hear him talking to Iggy, "You go over there honey. Through that door. Good boy. Now try and find the dildo I'm thinking of."

"He's going to be looking for a long time, especially after we each gave you one as a goodbye present," Freddie mumbled.

"That was the point. But seriously dude, you should see this guy." Freddie could almost see Shawn settling into an armchair. "So what did you want to talk about?"

All the emotions he had forgotten at the sound of Shawn's voice came rushing back. Damn.

"I came out to Spencer."

"Really? What happened?!" Shawn was too excited. Freddie didn't want to ruin it.

"We fucked."

"And? Why aren't you happy, man?"

"He doesn't want to see me anymore." Freddie could feel that lump coming back. Damn it.

"What? Why not?"

"He doesn't want..." Freddie sniffed, swallowing hard as tears pricked his eyes. "He doesn't want his little sister to know that he's... one of us."

"Carly? What the hell? Isn't she at Berkeley? I thought that was liberal tree hugger central. What does he think she'll do?" Freddie could see Shawn gritting his teeth angrily.

"I don't know. What am I supposed to do?" Freddie was crying now.

"Honey, don't cry. Don't make me come back over there and kick his ass."

Freddie giggled wetly.

"You better be smiling. One sec..." There were muffled voices, "No honey... bigger... not as big as yours..."

Freddie snorted.

"I thought it was the motion in the ocean, not the size of the ship."

"Sorry about that." Shawn was a little too breathless, and Freddie scowled. "And what? I only told Frank that because he was having trouble picking anyone up he felt so bad about himself. It's the size of the damn ship, Freddie. You should know."

"I do." Freddie smiled, wiping his eyes. Leave it to Shawn to cheer him up like this.

"You need to march over there right now and tell him that he's just a big pussy."

"I guess."

"Or get over him. You don't deserve to be like this though, Fred."

"You're right. He's just being stupid."

"Exactly. Now get your sexy ass over there and give him a piece of your mind."

"I will."

"And have hot make up sex," Shawn continued.

"Can do."

"With whips."

"And chains?" Freddie asked, grinning.

"Extra chains. I'll talk to you later, man. I have ten inches of Impalor waiting for me in the other room."

"Alright. Have fun, Shawn."

"Love you."

"I love you too." And then there was a click, and Shawn was out of reach again.

But that was ok, Freddie told himself, because he was going to go across the hall right this very minute and tell Spencer how he felt.

*

Freddie was making eye contact with him. "You're an asshole."

"What?" Go for innocent, Spencer reasoned. That way, Carly wouldn't assume anything.

"You know what I'm talking about." Suddenly the man was right in front of him angrily staring him down.

"What is he talking about, Spence?" Carly asked jovially, getting another plate out of the cupboard, assuming Freddie would be joining them.

"Yeah Spencer, why don't you tell her?" Freddie smirked.

"I... I..." Spencer tried backing up, but the stove was right behind him. Damn. There was no way out. Time for Plan B. "I don't know what you're talking about, kiddo. But since you're here, you should join us for dinner." Deny deny deny.

"Don't play dumb! You remember last night. You couldn't've been that drunk!" Freddie yelled.

Carly froze. "What happened last night?"

"Nothing!" Plan B was failing. There was no Plan C. Now what?

"Tell her. Go on," Freddie had crossed his arms, and if Spencer wasn't freaking out he would've tucked away a thought about how cute he looked like that.

"Spencer?" Carly was looking at him with serious concern now. Fuck it.

"Nothing happened! Alright! Now get out of my house!" Spencer pushed Freddie, who stumbled backwards, and fell painfully onto the counter.

Freddie stood back up quickly though, and shoved Spencer backward with all his strength.

And then they were fighting, hitting each other with every ounce of force they possessed, aiming for stomachs at first but then Freddie landed a blow square on Spencer's jaw, and raised the bar to faces too, and Spencer thought that they still might come out of this ok, until Freddie landed hard on the floor, nose bleeding, eyes shining.

"Do you do this to everyone you have sex with?" Freddie asked, looking up at the older man with so much pure hurt in his eyes that Spencer wanted to cry because, once again, he'd ruined everything.

And then there was the sound of ceramics shattering as the plate Carly was holding fell from her numb grip, and Spencer's attention was drawn away from his beaten ex-lover.

"What?" she said, her voice shaking.

**A/N - So I decided I needed to change the rating of this from T to M, because of the explicitness of this chapter, haha. I'm thinking about changing the summary too, suggestions are welcome!**

**Sorry this has taken me so long, again, busy, and I've been having a bit of writers block, and problems with my boyfriend (bedbugs, anyone?). Hopefully the next update will be a little more speedy. Thanks for reading, and please, review!**


	6. Chapter 6

Spencer later pondered how long he stood in his kitchen, with a silently crying Freddie on the floor and his little sister staring at him with her mouth open almost comically. It was as if time had stopped. He should've been talking to himself, or God, he later laughed, he should've been shaking his fist in the air and coming back to reality with a loud shout of "Tradition!"

He didn't know what he was waiting for. Maybe he thought lightning would strike him dead, or maybe he thought Freddie's tears would turn to laughter and Carly would shout "April Fools!" and they'd all laugh for hours and hours and everything would be ok. Except it wasn't April, and he'd never heard of lightning striking someone indoors.

After either an eternity or just a few seconds, because in moments like this time itself was probably the least real thing of all - and Spencer could attest to that, he took two philosophy classes in college - he'd calmly turned the stove off (he couldn't be so irresponsible as to leave a boiling pot of water on the stove) and then sprinted for the door.

"No!" it wasn't Freddie yelling this time. It was Carly. "Don't run out of here like that. I want to know what happened last night, and I want to know why my brother and one of my best friends were just fighting, and not with sabres."

Spencer slowly turned around, releasing his grip on the doorknob. Carly had her angry face on, and she was using that authoritative tone he'd only heard her use once before, when Sam's arms and chest were covered in bruises from that dick she'd been dating. And then Spencer realized she probably thought he was as bad as Tom or Tim or Jim, whatever his name was.

Freddie stood up, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, his cheeks red, and began heading for the front door. "I'll just -"

"No! You're not leaving either!"

"Don't you get it, Carly? We're gay. We slept together. Your brother," Freddie pointed angrily at Spencer, not even looking at him, and Spencer's stomach turned into lead, like he was hydroplaning on a busy highway in the dark, "however, is a homophobic asshole and refuses to admit that he is what he is, and so he's trying to pretend that nothing ever happened between us."

Carly's face had softened from angry to stern, but was nowhere near the disgusted Spencer has expected.

"But," Freddie continued, his voice shaking just the slightest bit. "But something did happen, and I -"

"I can't be with you, Freddie! I'm too old for you! You're my little sister's best friend!" Spencer wailed, exasperated. Freddie didn't understand that _it hurt him too_, to have to push him away like this, but he _had to_.

"So?" Freddie rounded on him, "Why does that matter? I want you, Spencer Shay. Why don't you want me too?" The boy was crying again, and it was like lead butterflies were killing each other in his lead stomach.

"I can't..." Spencer swallowed hard, watching Carly put her arm around his ex-lover, "I can't have you."

And then came the disgusted look, and Spencer knew he'd fucked everything up, and he had to get out of there. He lifted the pot of no longer boiling water off the stove and set it in the sink, then backed out of the apartment, and sprinted down the stairs.

"Spencer - wait. Spencer! Come back!" he heard Carly yelling at him down the stairs.

"Let him go," Freddie said, sitting on the couch and rubbing his eyes. "Running away is the only thing he knows how to do. That and pushing away."

Carly turned around, shutting the door. "Freddie... Why didn't you tell us?"

Freddie shrugged, "Because I didn't want an inquisition. Because I didn't want Sam to have another thing to taunt me about. Give me one good reason why I should have?"

"Because we're your best friends?" Carly looked at him sadly. "How long have you known?"

"Since I was sixteen..." he mumbled, looking at his lap.

"But you were dating Mandy then, weren't you? I thought you guys... Oh," Carly trailed off, understanding.

"Yeah," Freddie said miserably. Maybe if he went back home and crawled into bed and fell asleep really quickly, he'd wake up the next morning and everything would be ok.

* * *

Spencer wanted to run all the way to the beach and drown himself. After a couple blocks, though, he stopped, panting. Maybe he could drown himself in the puddles from the rain instead.

He weighed his options, and then pulled out his phone. He knew the number by heart.

It was ringing, thank god. "Hello?"

"Socko?" Spencer ducked under a doorway, realizing just standing in the rain was probably not the best idea.

"Spencer? Are you ok?"

"Can you come get me?"

Socko must have sensed something was wrong, because without hesitation he replied, "Yes, okay, where are you?"

* * *

"Please don't call Sam." Freddie didn't know why he was still with Carly, and why he was allowing her to force him to engage in any sort of social activity.

"Why don't you want to tell her?" he just stared at her incredulously. "She won't make fun of you! Sam isn't like that."

"Sam lives to make fun of me."

"What do I live to do?" Sam asked, slamming the front door behind her. She narrowed her eyes at Carly. "You said there would be spaghetti tacos."

"Yeah, well, Spencer decided he didn't want to be around Freddie anymore, so he left."

"I can't imagine why he wouldn't want to be around Fredweird," Sam mumbled, rummaging through the fridge. Carly elbowed Freddie pointedly, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head in Sam's direction.

"_Tell her_!" she hissed.

"Tell me what?" Sam asked as she replaced something in the fridge. Freddie closed his eyes tightly. Things really couldn't get any worse, so it's not like it would hurt, right?

"I'm gay," he choked.

"Oh. That's nice. Now get out of my seat, nub."

"What? No rude comments? No insults?" Freddie stood as the blonde sat happily in his recently vacated seat with a plate of ham.

"Well, if you really want me to insult you I could point out that your big oddly shaped butt is in my face," Sam said between stuffing her face with the pink meat.

"I told you!" Carly said triumphantly.

Freddie sat down on the other side of the couch as a smile broke out on his face.

* * *

"Thanks, man." Spencer settled into the front seat of Socko's car, dripping.

Socko smiled, "I think I owe you for all those times you picked me up from George's or Mel's when I was stoned."

"I did do that a lot." There was a pause, the only noise the windshield wipers and the gentle roar of the highway.

"So what happened?"

"It's a long story," Spencer sighed, settling down in his seat.

Socko glanced at him before returning his eyes to the road. "Well it'll be a while before we get back to my place, you know."

* * *

"So what made you like Spencer anyways?" Carly asked, toying with the pillow in her lap.

"I don't really know," Freddie shrugged before eating another strawberry.

"The better question is why Spencer wanted to sleep with Freddie," Sam joked. Freddie just glared at her. "At least we can finally be sure that you really are a fairy.

"Sam!" Carly scolded, shoving her gently. Sam just fell to the side, laughing.

"Well it's not like it wasn't obvious! Why would he have broken up with Mandy if he wasn't? She was hot!"

Freddie laughed. "I guess I did make it pretty obvious."

And suddenly, things were back to normal. Sam changed her jokes about Freddie slightly, but everything had finally clicked back to the way they were before.

* * *

"I just don't get why you let yourself get involved with him, Spence. He's _nineteen_. That was a recipe for disaster." Socko passed him the joint he was puffing on, but Spencer waved it away.

"No thanks. You don't get it. He - his ass - and I was so drunk. Gr!" Spencer wailed, burying his face in his hands in frustration.

Socko thoughtfully blew smoke from his nostrils. "So what are you going to do?"

"What can I do? How am I supposed to go back there? He lives across the hallway..." Spencer stole the joint from Socko's lax grip. "I know! We can move!"

Socko snorted, "There's a plan."

"Do you have a better idea? You know what it's like to be young. This kid isn't going to leave me alone." Spencer scowled as Socko snatched the doobie from between his lips. "Hey! I was working on my Jimi Hendrix impression!"

"I wouldn't be too sure about that."

"But he's one of my sisters best friends! He's going to be around forever," Spencer whined.

"I don't know, Spence," Socko shook his head. "I don't know."

**A/N - I'm sorry this took so long. I've been busy and I've had pretty bad writers block. I can't promise anything, but I think next chapter will be up faster.**

**I really want to thank those who reviewed! And all my readers, thank you guys so much for your support.**


	7. Chapter 7

Socko was right.

Freddie went out with Sam and Carly. Almost every night. He overheard them talking about their escapades. About the men he went home with.

Spencer told himself he didn't care. He spent more time with Socko than he had in the last few months combined. Socko told him to get out there and meet someone.

He tried. But he saw Freddie in everyone. The first girl had the exact same color hair as him. So he stayed away from brunettes.

The second guy had an adorable smile, but it wasn't as adorable as Freddie's.

"You need to get over it," Socko told him over drinks at some hole in the wall bar.

"You need to find better places to get hammered," Spencer shouted over the crappy thundering bass of some crappy pop song that no one actually wanted to hear.

"What's wrong with this place?" Socko took a swig of his beer.

Spencer looked around nervously. "What isn't wrong with this place? I'm getting out of here, man."

He threw some money on the greasy counter, and Socko followed.

"Hey, get back here!" Socko chased him down the littered sidewalk.

* * *

Freddie told himself that he was going to do it. Today was the day.

It was a few weeks after his fight with Spencer. And he was over it.

No, today was the day he was going to come out to his mother. As soon as she walked in the door, he sprang up from the couch, where he had been sitting nervously, wringing his hands.

"Mom! You're home!"

"Yes Freddie, I get home every day at this time. Are you ok?" She ran forward, feeling his forehead.

"Yes, mother, I'm fine. It's-"

"Oh no! Were you keeping up on your tick baths at school, Fredward? This could be Lyme's disease!" She pushed him back down to sit on the couch.

"Mother! Would you listen!" Freddie stood indignantly. It was now or never. "I don't have ticks! I'm gay!"

Marissa Benson froze. "What? Don't joke around with me like this, Freddie!"

"I'm gay, mom. Gay!"

And then she did something Freddie had only dreamed (nightmared?) about.

She hugged him.

"Oh Freddie! I've always knew you were! I was so worried when you told me about Sharon... Shelly... whoever. What's his name?"

Freddie coughed. "Mom-can't breathe..." He sucked in a huge breath as she loosened his hold on him. "Shawn."

"Awh! When do I get to meet him? I'm so happy!" She pulled him down again to sit on the couch next to her.

"Uh. He really is studying abroad, mom."

"Oh. What a shame. But that's ok, how about we do a puzzle together to celebrate?"

Freddie smiled as relief finally washed over him.

Suddenly he was watching his mom leave for her PFLAG meetings, and, after uncomfortably explaining to his mother that he and Shawn were, well, _mostly_ over, he was being sent on blind dates with other men like himself.

He went along with it, because it was great to see his mother so happy. He went along with her when she dragged him to help work at the Lifelong AIDS Alliance's kitchen.

"Mom, why are we here?" Freddie asked nervously. "I don't have AIDS."

"Of course you don't. That's why it's important to always use a condom-"

"Mom!"

And while she could be embarrassing, Freddie was happy. A little annoyed that she had been so quick to support him, but happy to know she cared so much. And happy that she hadn't reacted like he'd thought she would.

Weeks passed. Freddie spent many sweaty hours in doorways and dark alleys, or other men's beds. He was too afraid to bring someone home.

One night his mother sent him on a blind date with a young guy named Jack. After their uncomfortable meeting at an awkward restaurant, they'd quickly left, and headed for the club. Freddie was unsure what to do. It was raining queens and dykes, as Shawn would say, so no doorways or dark alleys. Jack didn't offer his place (Freddie suspected he also had an equally overbearing mother) and god damn it they were so horny...

So at two am Freddie unlocked the door, begging the god he never really thought about that his mother was asleep. He shushed a tipsy Jack, who was clinging to his hand, and pulled him through the apartment.

His mom turned on the lamp, "Freddie, where have... oh." She stood, embarrassed, pulling her robe around her tighter. Freddie imagined that the god he never spoke to was laughing and pointing. "Good night, Freddie."

"Good night mom." Freddie said, mortified, as his mother slowly exited the room.

Jack was quickly dragged up the stairs to Freddie's room.

"Don't worry, man. My mom interrogates every guy I bring home." Jack pulled his shirt off, revealing a six pack, and Freddie began losing his ability to think rationally.

"This is the first time," he pushed Jack onto his bed, climbing on top of him hungrily, "I've brought anyone home."

"You lucky bastard," Jack joked, ruffling Freddie's hair. Freddie laughed, unbuttoning his pants, eager to see Jack's other muscles. Every last one of them.

* * *

"So how's six-pack-Jack?" Carly asked as Freddie dug into the half watermelon on the table. Freddie snorted.

"He's good." Carly nodded, and Freddie knew she was eyeing the bags under his eyes, acquired from several late nights up with the muscled man in question.

"How good?" Sam queried, smirking. Carly giggled.

Freddie smiled, "Oh, I don't know, maybe eight inches of good?"

Carly choked on her watermelon, and Sam whacked her on the back as she coughed. "TMI," she mumbled as her eyes watered.

"I guess he just has to make up for all those inches Freddork lacks..." Sam said. Carly stood, getting herself a glass and filling it with water.

"Let's just stop right now, Sam," she said, sipping water. Freddie opened his mouth to respond. "You too, Freddie."

Freddie scowled, crossing his arms, glaring at Sam. Sam returned his glare, unblinking. They stared at each other intently for several minutes.

"Oh can't you two just cut it out?" Carly said, exasperated, breaking the silence.

"Wait Carls. I'll make you a deal, Fredwina. Loser has to..." Sam paused. Freddie could almost hear the gears in her mind whirring.

"No!" Carly sat back down at the table. "Besides, shouldn't we be getting ready? I thought Freddie was showing us around Capitol Hill tonight with Jack."

Sam scowled at her. "Fine. So when is this mysterious Jack showing up anyways?"

Freddie checked his pearpod as it beeped. "He's downstairs. Lewbert is giving him a hard time. I'll be right back."

They met again in the hallway (Freddie had to change, and Jack had to 'use the bathroom', which really meant lounge on Freddie's bed while he changed and remind him of how sexy he was).

"Guys, this is Jack. Jack, this is Carly, she lives in that apartment," Freddie gestured to the door behind the girl as Jack shook her hand, smiling. "And this is Sam."

"So Jack, enlighten me, why are you really still hanging around Freddork? Do you have some sort of loser fetish?" Sam asked as she shook his hand vigorously.

"What? Freddie's not..." Jack began, confused.

"Just ignore her." Freddie took his hand, smiling, and kissed him on the cheek. At that exact unlucky moment, Spencer came up the stairs with Socko.

The whole world seemed to stand still. Carly, ever the negotiator (Freddie seriously needed to tell her to consider working for the government or something, surely she could get Kim Jong Il to stop with his silly nuclear 'testing'), was the first to speak.

"Ok guys, let's get going, we don't want to miss the bus..." She pushed everyone towards the stairs as Spencer and Socko backed up against the wall to let the young adults pass. Spencer was looking pointedly at the ground.

"Carly?" Spencer called after them as they began down the stairs. "When will you be home?"

"Late." Carly yelled back. "Don't wait up for me."

Freddie just smiled and squeezed Jack's large hand as Sam began, in her own special way, interrogating him for best friend approval.

"So, tell me Jacko, what's your favorite brand of condom?"

**A/N - Thank for reading. There's only one more chapter left to this fic, if my planning is correct (which it sometimes isn't, because I may get a better idea :D). There will most likely be a sequel.**

**I want to extend more thanks to ButterMeQueasy for his super fantastic reviews. And to all those who have been reading from the beginning. I love you guys!**


	8. Chapter 8

Freddie was the happiest he had been in years. Everything finally seemed like it was going to be ok.

He ate the pasta his mother had made for their meet the parent dinner slowly. Mrs. Benson was politely and calmly asking Jack questions about himself. She hadn't been so cordial to any of the two girls he'd ever brought home to meet her.

And when they started going back to school shopping at the beginning of August, he realized the guys were totally right as he came out of the dressing room in a new pair of jeans, critically examining his ass in the mirror, his mother suggesting he should probably get the next size down.

A gay boy's mom was definitely his best friend.

For once he felt completely accepted for who he was. He couldn't ask for more. He hadn't thought about Spencer in over a month, and he knew everything would be fine. B

Spencer thought he was getting over Freddie. He really did. Until Sam's nineteenth birthday party.

There was enough alcohol to drown a small army. By ten o'clock he could hardly walk straight.

And with no Socko around to play his mommy, Spencer would later realize, he was completely out of control.

He pulled the adorable man into the bathroom, kissing up his tanned neck. Freddie's breath reeked of alcohol. He could've exploded a breathalyzer. But that might've been his own. Spencer could hardly tell.

"Not here," the younger man pleaded, tugging on Spencer's hair. "Your place."

Spencer would've killed someone if Freddie had asked him to, and he grabbed him by the front of his pants, dragging him to the door.

If he was sober, he might've felt bad for the cab driver, who had to listen to him slurping away at Freddie's neck the entire ride home. But then again, he probably wouldn't've been trying to eat Freddie if he was sober.

His key fumbled in the lock. Freddie took it from him, and easily opened the door.

Spencer shut the door behind him and pinned him up against it. Freddie pulled his shirt off, dropping it to the floor.

"I missed you," Spencer slurred. "I'm so sorry Freddie, I shouldn't have..."

But Freddie just covered his mouth with his soft hand and Spencer melted.

He knew they shouldn't be doing this here, against the doorway, but Freddie was pushing his shirt up and his hands were all over his chest, and god knows he would regret this in the morning but it was so worth it right now, especially when Freddie lowered himself to his knees and began unbutton his jeans and godjesuschristmotherfucker.

He was led by a firm hand on his most sensitive part to his bedroom, where Freddie shut and locked the door and pushed him roughly onto the bed.

The rest was a blur.

* * *

When Spencer dragged him into the bathroom at Sam's party, Freddie's mind was whirring. He knew he shouldn't do this, he wondered what Jack would think, he worried why he even wanted to do this. But Spencer was kissing him sloppily like a drunk sorority girl and it was almost like everything he'd thought about while screwing one of the many sorority bimbos he wasted his time on had come true and oh. Oh. Things sort of clicked into place in his brain and he just had to do this. He had to get it out of his system or something.

So he let himself be dragged back to the Shay apartment.

He let Spencer pin him to the door and he let himself drop to his knees and then drag the older man into the bedroom.

It was raw and ugly and horrible. Just like with the girls. Sweat poured off him as he bit Spencer's shoulder, _hard_, and Spencer just groaned and god it was so ugly.

Freddie felt like an animal as Spencer arched his back against his chest, and he just moaned in response. The hand not holding him up roamed over Spencer's chest and he was whimpering, begging, "Please Freddie, please please please."

And so he obliged, and then Spencer was grunting and panting harder, if that was possible, making his fingers sticky and gross and god now he was too and Jesusjesusjesus.

He was so sweaty and greasy and gross, and all he could think about was showering with Jack as he pulled himself off Spencer, flopping on his back on the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes so he didn't have to see.

Sleep overcame him quickly, thank god, and he dreamt of kissing Jack in the stairwell, hands roaming freely over his toned body.

* * *

Spencer fell asleep, spent and drunk and sweaty, watching Freddie smile in his dreams.

When he awoke, Freddie was already pulling his clothes on. Spencer sat up quickly.

Fuck fuck fuck bad idea. Someone was hammering on his skull from the inside. His eyes covered by an arm, he asked, "Where are you going? Come back to bed."

Freddie just shook his head. "I'm sorry, Spencer. I'm sorry for leading you on. I can't."

Spencer was so confused by the headache that Freddie's words took him a while to digest. Kind of like eating a huge plate of pasta and realizing ten minutes later that his stomach was clearly not equipped to digest the lump of chewed noodles, and suddenly feeling like he had farfalle backed up through his upper gi tract, sticking along his esophagus. Spencer would later marvel that he was able to come up with that correlation in such conditions.

"What?" he finally choked through the chewed up bowties.

"I... You were right. We can't be together, Spencer." Freddie was tying his shoes. "I'm sorry."

Spencer watched in horror as Freddie unlocked the door, and then left, shutting it behind him with a thump of finality that made his ears ring. His eyes were already tearing up as he heard Freddie leaving through the front door.

* * *

Freddie returned to school. Jack spent the night with him at least once a week (silly boy either had eight am classes or his morning workouts, and Freddie wasn't going to start complaining). They spent their weekends at the club or with the guys. His mom graciously invited him for Christmas Eve dinner.

He told Jack about that horrible August night.

"You poor thing," was the first thing Jack said.

"You're not mad?" Freddie could've sobbed with relief.

"I've slept with other guys too once or twice. Besides, it hardly sounds like you enjoyed it. How can I get mad at you for having horrible sex?" Jack reasoned.

Freddie just smiled, kissing his boyfriend's neck fondly. "Does this mean I'm allowed to screw girls?"

Jack snorted, ruffling his hair. "If you really want to..." Freddie laughed, gently punching his shoulder. Jack climbed on top of him, holding his wrists together in one strong hand, and digging the fingers of his free hand into Freddie's side.

Freddie laughed harder, writhing underneath Jack, trying to pull his hands free. "No! Jack! Please!"

Jack just tickled him more.

Freddie was happy that he did what he did. Every doubt he might've had was gone. He never wondered in a drug induced haze whether he should have pursed Spencer anymore. He never drunk dialed him. And he never hoped he'd see him, find himself blowing him, as he wandered through the baths.

Everything was right again, and he really couldn't ask for more.

* * *

Spencer got over it eventually.

He only cried once at least, he later reassured himself.

Socko tried to cheer him up, but there was only so much a friend could do.

After a few months, he showed up at that hole in the wall of a bar to find his best friend nursing a beer, feet tucked comfortably under the grimy barstool.

"Hey man," Socko shouted, throwing an arm around him and hugging him. "You're alive."

"Barely," Spencer yelled as the bartender handed him a beer at Socko's beckoning.

"You'll get better, man. It just takes time."

Spencer just shrugged, watching as two blondes entered, their heels clicking unnaturally on the grody floor.

"Come on. Let's go talk to them." Socko was looking at the same girls. Spencer shrugged again.

"I don't know," he mumbled, sipping from the greasy glass. Socko seemed saddened when Spencer looked back up at him. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok, man," Socko assured him, grinning as he usually did, "I understand."

Spencer smiled back, feeling a renewed sense of hope, "I have dibs on the tall one."

~fin

**A/N - Thanks so much to everyone who followed this from the beginning, to all my reviewers, and all my readers.**

**A sequel (because we all know Spencer/Freddie is the otp, right? And I just can't leave it like this...) is still in the works. It may be a while before we see the first chapter of that, but I promise I'll try and post something within a month. If not, send out a search party, because I'll probably be lost in my new college freedom. :D**

**I'm almost sad to be ending this because it's been really fun, especially hearing from my readers. Thanks again guys!**


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